Sing Me To Sleep
by starkid writer
Summary: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Whoever wrote that was full of crap." TRIGGER WARNING for suicide.
1. Sing me to sleep

**A/N: I'm really not sure where this came from. I just started writing and... this happened. I feel so bad for doing this to Kurt. The song used in this is _Smile _(the Glee version). The title came from _Asleep_ by The Smiths. *TRIGGER WARNING* for suicide. If this is a problem for you, then please don't read this.**

**This isn't beta-ed, so I apologize for any mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

* * *

Every morning, when Kurt woke up, he wished he hadn't.

He would just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, not thinking, not moving, just laying there. He couldn't find the will to get up. Couldn't find the will to go through the day like a normal person. Couldn't find the will to deal with everyone asking him if he was okay. And, sometimes, he couldn't find the will to live.

He had the pills all set up. They were sitting on the bathroom counter, waiting for when Kurt was ready. There had been so many times when he thought he was ready. His letter was written and his clothes picked out. He even got as far as putting the pills in his mouth. He just couldn't force himself to swallow.

He was a wimp. A girl. Fag. That's what everyone called him. Kurt had started taking it to heart. Hell, there was never a time when he didn't.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me._

Whoever wrote that was full of crap. Words hurt worse than any kind of physical pain. So Kurt wouldn't resort to anything that could cause him physical pain. He wouldn't cut. Instead of a razor in his bathroom, Kurt kept a permanent marker. Whenever he was called a painful name, Kurt would take the black marker and inscribe the word on his skin.

_Sissy_, _stupid_, and _flaming fag_ were just a few of the names lining his arms. _Freak_ stood out against the pale skin of his hip. _Fat_ was scrawled in thick black lines across his chest. Just below his ear, where no one else could see but he knew was there, Kurt had written _ugly_. And then there was a particular one, that wasn't written where anyone could see it from the surface. You could only see it if you looked inside, which no one ever bothered to do. It was written in his eyes, in his body movements, across his face. _Just die already_. Every time Kurt saw it reflecting back at him in the mirror, he would say, "I'm trying."

Kurt wasn't sure when he started feeling like this. He knew he could get help, but, like many other things in life, he couldn't force himself to. There was nothing they could do anyway. He always knew he would end up committing suicide, just like he always knew he was gay. Kurt knew it would hurt everyone around him, but it seemed like he was hurting them enough just by existing. He caused them enough trouble. He should just get over with it. Everyone would be much happier.

So now Kurt was putting on his special outfit. That outfit had been sitting in the back of his closet for months. He inspected himself in the mirror. The outfit covered up the words well. His hair looked flat. His eyes looked dead. Soon they would be. Kurt pulled the envelope out of his desk drawer and placed it on his dresser, where someone was sure to find it.

He willed himself not to cry. He refused to be a coward. He would not be weak. He would do it. He would go through with it, and he would be strong. He would not break down. Not now. He was past that point. That point of caring. Of feeling. He was just numb all the time.

And then he was in the bathroom, pills in hand, poised to dump them in his mouth. This time he would swallow. This time he would go through with it. This time he would not fail. But his phone rang. Kurt could have just ignored it, but the caller I.D. called out to him. The screen displayed Blaine's name.

Blaine. Kurt's boyfriend of over two months. How could he have not noticed all this time? How come he didn't save him? Placing the pills on the counter, Kurt picked up.

"Hello?" His voice shook. Silently, Kurt cursed himself for it.

"Hey, Kurt." Blaine's voice was so friendly, so loving, so alive. Kurt wondered how his must sound. Did it sound empty? Hollow? Dead?

"Can you come over?" Why did he say that? He was always saying stupid things. But he couldn't have Blaine come over. Not now. Curse his stupid mouth for blabbing without his permission.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, voice full of worry. "Where are you?"

"I'm fine." Lies. "I'm just not feeling so well." Lies. "I'm in my dorm."

"I'll be right over." And then he hung up, without so much as a goodbye.

Kurt stared at his reflection in the mirror. His skin looked paler than usual, his eyes had lost their sparkle. His face looked sunken in. All in all, he looked defeated. Like he had given up. Which he had. He had given up on life.

Someone rapped on Kurt's door. Blaine. "I'll be out in a second!" he called. Then he swallowed the pills and chased them down with water. He'd done it. No turning back now.

As soon as he opened to door, he captured Blaine in a kiss. This would be the last kiss he ever shared with Blaine. The last kiss he'd ever have. Kurt savored the feeling.

"Whoa," Blaine said, pulling back slightly. "I thought you said you weren't feeling well."

"I just… I just wanted to say hello," Kurt looked at the ground. "I'm really tired. C-can you sing to me?"

"Sure." Blaine took his hand and led Kurt to the bed. The pills, already taking effect, made his knees weak. "What do you want me to sing?" he asked.

"A lullaby," Kurt answered, settling himself on top of the comforter.

"Okay." Blaine stroked his cheek. "You just sit back and relax. We need you to get better as soon as possible." Kurt bit back a laugh. He was far beyond repair.

And then Blaine began to sing.

_Smile, though your heart is aching_

_Smile, even though it's breaking_

_When there are clouds in the sky_

_You'll get by…_

It was like Blaine knew exactly what was going on. Like he was trying to stop Kurt. It was spooky. But nothing could stop him now. Everything was already done. And Kurt was ready to leave.

_If you smile_

_Through your pain and sorrow_

_Smile and maybe tomorrow_

_You'll see the sun come shining through_

_For you…_

Everything was starting to get fuzzy now. Kurt drank in Blaine's appearance: his raven colored hair, curly, but usually slicked back with gel; his beautiful hazel eyes, ever changing in color; his strong jaw line; his perfect pink lips.

_Light up your face with gladness_

_Hide every trace of sadness_

_Although a tear_

_May be ever so near_

The world was starting to change alarmingly. Everything was spinning, and he couldn't tell up from down. Kurt clutched his boyfriend in a last attempt to bring him back down to earth. But it was no use. He'd be gone soon, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

_That's the time you must keep on trying_

_Smile—what's the use of crying?_

_You'll find that life is still worthwhile_

_If you just smile_

Kurt was starting to get scared now. He felt sick and dizzy and disoriented and he just wanted it to stop. Why did the pills have to take so long to work? Blaine must have sensed his distress, because he started petting Kurt's hair and planting small kissed on his face when there were breaks in the song.

_Smile, though your heart is aching_

_Smile, even though it's breaking_

_When there are clouds in the sky_

_You'll get by_

_That's the time you must keep on trying_

_Smile—what's the use of crying?_

_You'll find that life is still worthwhile_

_If you just smile_

Kurt's eyes fluttered closed as Blaine finished the song. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The last thing Kurt saw before everything went black was his boyfriend's beautiful, loving face hovering over his. _So perfect…_

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**A/N: I don't think there'll be a sequel or another chapter. So, for now, this is complete. However, if you simply _must_ have a follow-up, I'll figure something out. Or maybe I'll just get inspired. ALSO: I don't know about taking pills or the effects of over-dosing. My internet was down when I wrote this, so I couldn't research it. So basically I just guessed. Please don't hate if my information is inaccurate.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Don't feel bad for me

**A/N: hey guys. So I took the other chapter two and edited it. So now this one is chapter two and the other no longer exists. Well, it does, but not here. Nevermind. So this is un-betaed so all mistakes are mine.**

**Oh yes, I did some more research into this stuff, so I hope this chapter is a more accurate representation of what it's like. Enjoy! Well, maybe not so much.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**WARNING: COULD BE TRIGGERING. Very graphic. If you are sensitive to blood, self harm, or throwing up, please don't read this.**

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_Sorry about what?_ Blaine thought to himself as he watched his sleeping boyfriend. Sorry about falling asleep during his song? Well, that was forgivable. Kurt was sick, and sleep is a major factor in the recovery process.

Blaine was getting ready to leave when Kurt coughed in his sleep. No… it was more of a gag. Blaine turned around, alarmed. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the vomit dribbling out the side of Kurt's mouth. Kurt's body was convulsing, like he was throwing up. Well, he was.

Immediately, Blaine panicked. "Kurt?" he called out, hoping to wake him.

As the taller teen convulsed again, Kurt sat bolt upright. His eyes were huge and watery. He was breathing hard and shaking. He looked down and vomited into his hands, on his lap, everywhere.

Kurt started sobbing.

Usually, Blaine was pretty squeamish about vomit, but he could tell something was seriously wrong with Kurt, so he went over and put his arms around the shaking boy.

Kurt was yelling at him incoherently. Blaine couldn't make out much besides "Go away" and "Don't try to help". Despite Kurt's demands, Blaine knew that he was not going anywhere with his boyfriend so sick.

Carefully, Blaine helped Kurt walk to the bathroom where he heaved numerous times, yet not much came out. The sick boy was still shaking when he started to fall back. Blaine saw what was happening and caught him just in time. Kurt's shaking became more violent, and Blaine just held him tighter, whispering, "Please stop, please stop!"

Of course, this was useless. "Help!" Blaine screamed, not knowing what else to do. "Help! Someone! Help!"

He waited, and waited, yet no one came to the rescue. Blaine finally got the brilliant idea to call 911. He reached into his pocket… only to discover that his cell phone wasn't there.

Well fuck.

"Kurt," Blaine said loudly, to make sure he was getting through, "I'm going to walk you to my room so I can call an ambulance."

"NOOOO!" The scream was so loud and high pitch, Blaine thought his eardrums would burst.

Blaine was so overcome with worry that he didn't have time to question or deal with this resistance. "_Yes, _now come on," he insisted. Then, with a strength he did not know he possessed, Blaine all but dragged Kurt to his room, brushing past all the concerned glances in their direction. Blaine didn't even notice that there was a group of people following him until he got to his room.

"What happened?"

"Is he alright?"

"Do we need to call an ambulance?"

Blaine was overwhelmed with questions. He buried his face in his hands, trying to compose his thoughts.

"Help him," he choked out.

"Okay, we're calling an ambulance," someone said.

Kurt stirred from where he had collapsed on the floor. "No," he murmured. "Just let me die."

Blaine let out a suppressed sob. He finally got it. Kurt did this to himself.

"The ambulance is on its way," someone announced.

"_No_," Kurt said, struggling to stand up. He then walked to Blaine's bathroom. The room full of Dalton students just stared at him, not moving.

It was only when the bathroom door slammed that Blaine came out of this trance. "KURT!" Blaine shouted, running to the bathroom. He pushed and pulled and banged on the door, but it did not open. Finally, he gave up, leaning his head against the wall.

It took forever for the EMTs to arrive. They made Blaine stand back as they broke down the door. What Blaine saw made him sick.

Kurt's pale, pale form lay lifelessly slumped against the wall in a puddle of blood. There were numerous cuts lining the inside of his arms and across his chest. Kurt's ripped shirt was thrown carelessly to the side and drenched in blood. With the shirt gone, Blaine could see the words. _Fat, fag, sissy, girl_. This was almost worse than the cuts. Both showed just how much Kurt hated himself.

A few of the Dalton boys rubbed Blaine's back as he dry heaved into a nearby trashcan.

"I'm coming with you!" Blaine said once he was done. But Kurt and the EMTs were gone.

"They left, Blaine," someone said.

"Someone drive me," Blaine commanded

* * *

The drive to the emergency room was completely silent.

Blaine ran to the front desk. "Where's Kurt Hummel?" he frantically asked.

The receptionist took too long to answer. "He's in surgery right now. But you can stay in the waiting room on the second floor?" she offered.

"Thank you." And then Blaine rushed off, Wes and David – who had managed to find him through all this chaos – trailing behind.

They waited for what seemed like hours, with Blaine in a never-ending hysteria.

At one point, Burt came bursting in.

"Where is he?" Burt shouted, panting as if he had climbed 20 sets of stairs, instead of one.

Blaine stopped pacing and took his head from out of his hands. Wes and David looked at each other, not knowing who this strange man is.

"He's in surgery, Mr. Hummel," Blaine finally answered, as the other occupants of the waiting room were staring openly now, as opposed to before when they only snuck glances at the deranged pacing boy.

"He's not out yet?" Mr. Hummel took off his baseball cap and rubbed his head.

"No, not yet," Blaine replied.

"Hmph," Burt grunted and dropped into a chair, head in his hands.

Eventually, Blaine took a seat and MR. Hummel looked up. He glanced at the boys' matching blue blazers with the Dalton crest and recognized it as the uniform his son wears. Wore. The thought made him shiver.

But he shook it off and asked, "So you boys from Dalton?"

"Yes, sir," Wes answered. "We're Kurt's friends."

Kurt's name brought Mr. Hummel's face into a grimace. "I just want him to be okay," he whispered.

Blaine looked him in the eye. "Me, too."

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**A/N: So... what'd you think? I haven't written anything in ages so I might be a little rusty. But hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things. Oh, question: If I send Kurt to a mental hospital, should I make up my own characters for the patients or should I use the Glee group?**


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